


if i could save you from standing there (i would, i would, i would)

by Kidfish



Category: The Wilds (TV 2020)
Genre: Character Study, F/F, Pre-Canon, inspired by sarah pidgeon's eyes, the inherent romanticism of leatin knowing each other before the island
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-02
Updated: 2021-02-02
Packaged: 2021-03-13 20:20:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29159550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kidfish/pseuds/Kidfish
Summary: Fatin Jadmani does not pine, especially over girls with blue eyes who don’t even give her a second look in Calculus, even when she walks into class twenty-five minutes late.//Between her snarky crop tops, strappy heels, and her aloofness, Fatin is basically the definition of a #girlboss. It kind of makes Leah hate her.or: Fatin and Leah, who they are, before and during the island
Relationships: Fatin Jadmani/Leah Rilke
Comments: 10
Kudos: 203





	if i could save you from standing there (i would, i would, i would)

**Author's Note:**

> Someone messaged me about pre-island Leah and Fatin pining after each other at school and well, I couldn't resist (all mistakes are mine)
> 
> shoutout to alivia (@blinkaftermidnight on tumblr), who encourages my bad decisions 
> 
> title is from Caves by Haux
> 
> Enjoy!

Fatin Jadmani does not pine, especially over girls with blue eyes who don’t even give her a second look in Calculus, even when she walks into class twenty-five minutes late. Said girl doesn’t look up from the book she’s reading, a thick one with a pretentious, faux-deep title and a douchebag author, Fatin thinks, even though she’s in the second row, in clear view of their teacher. Whatever, she’s probably one of those lit nerds who thinks she can get away with reading every second of the day, when really it shouldn’t be socially-acceptable to have your nose stuck in a book when people try to talk to you. But that’s just Fatin’s opinion, 

She rattles off a tired excuse about getting time slipping away from her in the practice room (in reality, she was letting Daniel the Frat Bro-that’s his contact in her phone-fuck her in her car during the free period. They had met last week at the party on Berkeley’s campus.) but the teacher eats it up; she didn't have to mention Juilliard this time. Guess when the whole school knows you’re some type of cello prodigy trivial things like 5th period Calculus don’t matter, go figure. Nevermind, she doesn’t even have her cello with her.

Calc is a bore anyway; derivatives put her to sleep and it doesn’t help the sun is creeping in through the cracks in the blinds, hitting her back in just the right way that makes her feel like she’s a cat, sunning itself in the afternoon haze. To keep herself from dozing off, because her parents won’t even think about letting her GPA slip below a 4.0, Fatin alternates between moving her fingers along her pencil like it’s the fretboard on her cello, moving through arpeggios, major than minor keys, and thinking about Daniel, who unfortunately, did not know how to find her clit. She can’t say she’s surprised or disappointed, but she’s been on a string of guys who were unfortunately inept at reciprocating pleasure. There’s always this Friday, another house party to go to, another guy for her to find, all to willing to fuck her. 

A noise gets her attention, coming from the front of the class, and Fatin looks up. Their teacher, obviously hoping to catch her off guard, calls on the girl with her nose in the book, asking her to answer the questions on the worksheet they’re all supposed to be working on. She doesn’t even look up, just responds with the numbers in a flat-sounding kind of voice, not disrespectful, just bored. From the way their teacher’s eyebrows raise into his hairline, Fatin assumes the girl has the correct answers. 

Now that’s interesting. Calculus isn’t necessarily hard work, but it’s still work. This girl keeps reading as if they’re still in Algebra 1, the numbers coming to her like it’s easy, like it’s effortless. And Fatin doesn’t get jealous easily, but her whole life is effort, so maybe something about the girl strikes a chord in her (if only softly at first, but in the following weeks, crescendos until Fatin can’t ignore it).

The period ends and Fatin realizes she spent the majority of the time staring at the back of this girl’s head instead of doing her work. (The back of her head isn’t even that special, medium length dark brown hair, although a few shades lighter than Fatin’s hair.) Great, now she’ll have to spend extra time tonight doing Calc and her parents will ask her why she isn’t at the studio. 

Everyone scrambles out of their seats and for the door at the same time and Fatin gets stuck in the clogged doorway, the swell of her classmates prevents her from getting to her car early. Normally, if she had her cello, she could use it as a sort of battering ram (gently, of course) as a means to part the busy hallways like the Red Sea, but this time she just has to wait like everyone else. It’s annoying. She ends up right next to the girl, who (Fatin can’t believe it) is still reading the book, and then she ends up _right next_ to the girl because someone bumps into her from behind. Fatin, in her attempt to regain her balance, accidentally swats the book out of the girl’s hands. The book falls to the ground heavily and lands with a tremor that maybe displaces a third-world village on the other side of the world. They both stare at, as if aftershocks are a real problem from the small earthquake that just occurred in their Calc classroom (They should know, they live in California after all.)

“Sorry about that, sometimes this place feels like a fucking cattle drive.” Fatin says. 

The girl doesn’t say anything right away, doesn’t even look at Fatin right away, maybe she’s in some sort of trance because her beloved book is ass-up on the ground and Fatin’s beginning to think the girl is holding some type of funeral service in her head for it. Fatin bends down to pick it up (because what else is she going to do when the girl hasn’t said anything) and when she stands back up, the girl seems taller than before, and Fatin’s not short by any means. 

Then, finally, the girl turns towards her and holy shit, Fatin almost drops the book again because this girl has the bluest fucking eyes she’s ever seen. Not many things can shake up Fatin’s game, but apparently this girl and her intense-ass eyes can. 

“Uh, can I have my book back?” she asks and Fatin doesn’t want to ruin her reputation so she shoves the book back into the girl’s hands, maybe a tad harder than normal, and walks out of the classroom. 

Fatin tries to go about the rest of her day as normal: ignores her mom when she yells up to her room about practicing, plays with her little brothers, and finishes her homework (plus her fucking Calc homework she didn’t do in class), even eating dinner with her family instead of just grabbing something to-go before she goes to the studio. It’s only when she’s halfway through her Brahms piece and she’s missed a downbow for the third time that Fatin realizes that she hasn’t been able to get the image of the girl in her Calc class out of her head, her eyes narrowing, as if considering Fatin and not knowing what boxes to place her in. She wonders what she’d have to do to get the girl to look at her like that again.

She gives up practicing, two hours earlier than planned (her mom isn’t happy but who cares), and goes home, telling her parents she has a headache and that she’s going to bed. She gets a text from Daniel asking if she’s doing anything tonight, complete with the wrong use of ‘your’. Ugh, what a waste of a condom and her free period. She deletes the message and then his contact info. Fatin desperately tries to get her mind to calm down from the day but nothing is working. Sometimes she thinks her body protests if she’s not in the studio practicing at least three hours a day, as if it’s betraying her and reporting her practice logs directly to her mother. She ends up thinking about the girl in her Calc class again and practically has to stop the scoff that comes out of her mouth, intended for herself.

God, who has she become, mooning over some girl’s pretty eyes?

It’s pathetic, really.

_____

After a strange run in with a girl in her Calc class, Leah goes straight to Ian about it, to see what he thinks. He points her out in between gently insulting (and maybe complimenting?) Leah and says her name is Fatin as they both watch her walk through the quad, headphones in and talking loudly to whoever she’s facetiming. Briefly, she wonders who Fatin is talking to. If this was a movie (or if they went to public school) then maybe Fatin would be cast as a mean, popular girl, with her posse of friends who she publicly deemed on lower rungs on their school’s popularity ladder than her but still hangs out with. But in the next few days as Leah watches her, she always seems to be alone. There certainly aren't crowds of girls around her at all times but she does notice how every guy who’s at least a little bit straight (and quite a lot of girls) ogle at Fatin whenever she walks by. It makes Leah’s face heat up in a way that she’s annoyed at herself for. Of course, on top of everything else, Fatin has to be gorgeous and have every single one of their classmates throw themselves at her feet when Leah hasn’t even dated anyone, let alone hookup with them. Sure, she’s kissed a few guys (and the occasional girl) at parties but nothing more than that. Her sexual history (or lack thereof) is abysmally lacking.

Leah considers Ian’s words about Fatin being _“the most basic bitch”_ at their school and how she’s a _“shoo-in at Juilliard”_ and decides even with his weird obsession with how weird (Leah likes to think “eccentric” is a better word) their classmates are, he’s right. At least from what Leah can determine by sneaking glances at Fatin from across the quad Fatin is, and always will be, popular, rich, and above it all in a way Leah will never be able to understand. Between her snarky crop tops, strappy heels, and her aloofness, Fatin is basically the definition of a #girlboss. It kinda makes Leah hate her.

Fatin’s life is together and Leah’s is most certainly not. Sometimes she even has a hard time choosing what cereal she wants to have for breakfast; God forbid, her parents try to talk about college with her. Yeah, so Fatin’s got her whole life mapped out, right down to the inevitable celebrity boyfriend, and Leah doesn’t even know what she wants to major in. Mrs. Wolfe, her English teacher, thinks she could become an author, write the next best-seller or something similar, but the only problem is Leah has no idea what she’d write about; her life is about as exciting as white bread or like, oatmeal, but oatmeal without any brown sugar or fruit or honey, so plain. Leah’s life is like plain, cold oatmeal. (How’s that for a simile, Mrs. Wolfe?)

The only bright spot in her life right now seems to be the book Mrs. Wolfe assigned their English class. Leah’s always been a fast reader, but ever since she picked _The Nature of Her_ up, she hasn’t been able to put it down, the words and metaphors and feelings of the main character eating her up and feeling so fucking relatable. She knows she’s shutting the rest of the world out (her parents, even Ian) but she makes up an excuse about required reading and her parents leave her alone. Ian is more persistent. Even though he told her about the author event and that attendance is required for everyone in their Contemporary Lit class, he still suggests they skip it a few days before. Leah obviously refuses; she’s not about to give up the opportunity to see her favorite author speak in person and maybe even ask for his autograph.

Ian rolls his eyes when he hears this and Leah smacks him on the shoulder as he walks her to Calc. Surprisingly, Fatin is already in her seat at the back of the class, slumped but also still maintaining her perfect posture (??). It’s not like Leah keeps track of her attendance but it’s kinda hard not to notice someone when they’re perpetually late to class.

The bell rings and Ian scurries off to class while their teacher starts handing out a thick packet of papers, signaling to everyone that they’re starting a new unit. The whole class groans. 

____

Of course this girl has a boyfriend, Fatin thinks. She sees the girl walk in with him the day she cancels a dick appointment so she’s actually early to Calc. The boyfriend, who is shorter and scrawnier than her (does he get enough vitamins, Fatin wonders) isn’t in their class so it’s clear the only reason he’s here is to walk her to class. It’s sweet in a gross kind of way that Fatin wants to gag at but also instantly craves.

Maybe she’s vain or self-obsessed but Fatin actually wants a boyfriend, not that she’ll ever get one due to her mother’s wishes to become the next Jacqueline du Pré, but sue her, she wants a boyfriend, or girlfriend. At least someone who’s on her side and fights for her, like her dad when he’s not being completely bulldozed by her mother. That shouldn’t make her a bad person or a “basic bitch” (she knows what her classmates whisper about her in the halls) for wanting something. But wanting something and actually receiving it are two totally different things, something Fatin, unfortunately, knows all too well.

Her eyes track back to the front of the classroom. They’re both laughing at something and the boy squeezes her arm but something’s off, Fatin can tell. Her body angles away from the boy’s and even though she’s not holding it, Fatin can see that damn book poking out of her bag as if it’s staring back at her. Huh, perhaps she was wrong in her earlier assessment of their relationship. Then, the realization hits her over the head and she’s ashamed at herself for not noticing it earlier: this boy is obviously in love with his friend, how trite of him, Fatin thinks. Obviously the girl doesn’t feel the same way; it’s written all over her face. She almost feels bad for the boy before remembering she really doesn’t care about him (or the girl) or any other of their classmates at all. 

As if the girl knew Fatin was trying to analyze her whole psyche, she turns around and looks at Fatin directly. Even across the room, those eyes pierce into her and Fatin has to control her breathing like she’s some middle school girl meeting Harry Styles (or in her case Yo-Yo Ma) for the first time. The girl doesn’t say anything, even when her friend stays in their classroom for way too long (until the late bell is ringing and he runs to his class), just arches an eyebrow at Fatin, maybe as a mutual understanding? Or maybe as a type of acknowledgement? Or maybe the fact Fatin hasn’t gotten a good orgasm in ten days (despite her valiant efforts) and it’s affecting her thinking, creating some sort of nonexistent bond with a random girl in her class. She shudders at the thought of not being able to orgasm for an extended period of time, that’s basically her worst nightmare. Her vigorous sex life is like the only thing keeping her from snapping her cello bow in half and sticking herself with it.

When their teacher says to split into pairs to go over mathematical definitions she really couldn’t care less about, Fatin notices she’s not the only one who curls into herself, preferring to work alone. The girl continues to scribble in her packet, pencil moving quickly in a way Fatin knows is from hours of practice, and this girl is definitely a writer. It shouldn’t surprise her, it’s not like the private arts school they both attend is big on STEM classes, but the trajectory her brain was creating for this girl shifts slightly, as if it’s turning on to a side road before the main highway. 

The bell rings after a grueling hour of Calc and Fatin finds herself again, trapped in the bustle of students trying to leave, and the girl slides up next to her. 

“Should've brought my cattle prod from home,” she says and smiles, closed-lipped and small before turning into a full grin when Fatin stares (dumbly) at her.

Too late Fatin realizes she's making a joke (from over a week ago no less), but the girl is already walking away, blending into the hustle and bustle of their classmates filling the hallways. She stands there, frozen, long enough for her teacher to ask if she’s okay and then she’s walking cautiously in the empty hallways, as if the girl is hiding behind a row of lockers getting ready to scare her. Since when did she walk around this school intentionally looking to cross paths with someone? God, she really needs to get laid, like, properly laid. 

So no, Fatin doesn’t pine (she doesn’t even know this girl’s name), but she can’t help but be a little intrigued by this girl.

____

“You’d think for an alumni event, this place at least would have some refreshments or something,” Ian leans over from the armrest he’s sitting on to complain to Leah for the fifth time (she’s counting) about the lack of food. She’s only annoyed at him slightly since he has a point: if she has to be in this auditorium after hours they should have snacks, at the bare minimum.

“Hey, isn’t this like a required event for all juniors?” Leah scans the crowd, people standing up and chatting with their friends before the lights dim down. She spots a few parents scattered around and is thankful her parents are home completing what they say is their “weekly puzzle”.

“Why? You finally thinking of skipping with me?” Ian’s eyes light up. 

“No, idiot,” Leah rolls her eyes. “I just don’t see everyone here.” 

She doesn’t mention that the person she doesn’t see is Fatin, has been looking through the crowd for her and flicking up to the exits, just in case. It’s not like Leah’s waiting for her, just she knows Fatin isn’t exactly giving with her time, but the lights dim and Fatin still hasn’t arrived, so Leah assumes she’s not coming after all. 

Then, he walks onto stage after Mrs. Wolfe’s introduction and makes a joke that has the corners of Leah’s mouth turning involuntary into a smirk, and a curtain falls over her eyes and doesn't lift for a very long time.

(She thinks the curtain twitches months later when she finds an unnamed card next to her hospital bed that reads _Pick you head up, cowboy_ in unfamiliar handwriting but too feminine to be his and again on an island thousands of miles away.

It’s when she finally gives up the book, which really it’s a mess of waterlogged pages and sand now, for kindling and warms a place in her heart, buried deep, down, that hasn’t seen the light of day since that curtain was drawn, when the book burns quickly and then becomes nothing more than a pile of ash and dust, then the curtain fully disappears.) 

____

“Can you imagine being at school on a Friday night for a school _event_? It’s some author too, how boring. That’s like a special kind of torture. I think I’d rather be stuck on a deserted island,” Fatin complains to her latest conquest, some guy who finally, finally, made her come. So, even if she doesn’t really do the whole fuck and hang around thing, she can make an exception this time.

“Well why aren’t you there then?” 

“I dropped the class, obviously. Lit’s not my thing anyway. I’m much more hands on,”

Fatin gets two more orgasms in before she has to leave to make her 11 pm curfew. She lets the guy save his number in her phone with his real name, Max, as a victory for herself. 

____

“Even though it’s completely banal of me to ask, what do you want to do?”

“I don’t know, I haven’t really thought about it. The world seems too big right now to know what I want to for the rest of my life,”

Mr. Galanis, _Jeff,_ seems to approve of her answer. “Mrs. Wolfe says you’re a good writer, almost top of her class, maybe start there? You’re already better than I was, being in her good graces.”

The shock of it all, that her teacher is in regular communication with her favorite author for him to know her writing and then to have him sitting across from her in her car, fully crashes over Leah.

“Oh my God, you guys talk about me?” She can’t keep the disbelief out of her voice. 

“Enough to know you’re one of her favorites, but not that often,” he gives her a warm smile. “I could give you my agent’s number, maybe help fast track your way to a published novel?”

The forwardness, the kindness, again shocks Leah. “Sure, yeah, that’d be awesome.”

“My agent, Gretchen, she’s great. Takes all the stress out of publishing, just lets me write my characters the way I want to write them and she takes care of everything else. Editing, marketing, sales, you name it.” 

“Yeah, I’ll have to check it out. Thanks again.”

____

The girl’s name is Leah, Fatin finds out, from her boy (space) friend, an embarrassing amount of time later, considering she’s been politely observing the girl for ~~(several months)~~ longer than she’d like to admit. They’re arguing when she walks by and Fatin really doesn’t mean to eavesdrop; however, there is always a time and place for gossip, even though she knows she won’t be repeating this interaction to anyone else. 

Leah bites out harsh words to her friend, Ian, Fatin reminds herself, and then they’re yelling back and forth and she hears the word _boyfriend_ and it’s one of those conversations. After the initial strike, Ian doesn’t even try to fight back when Leah hurls accusations at him (“You sent him my birth certificate. Admit it, Ian!”)—and maybe Fatin’s misjudged their conversation a second time—his voice comes out resigned, defeated, as if he’s tired of fighting about this with her. 

Fatin doesn’t stick around to hear Leah cry. 

____

She’s driving a little too fast through the suburbs that she nearly hits someone dancing in the road. Thankfully, she swerves just in time and nearly takes out a way too expensively adorned mailbox. Fatin parks on the side of the road and gets out of the car, about to give whoever the person dancing in the middle of the street at night a piece of her mind, and sees a girl her age with familiar dark brown hair—

The other car comes out of nowhere, so fast Fatin doesn’t even have time to scream. 

What’s worse is that it’s a hit and run—those _fuckers_ —and God, Leah’s bleeding and she doesn’t know what to do. The white bralette she’s wearing is quickly turning dark, dark red and it feels way too intimate to stick her hand up Leah’s shirt when they barely know each other, but there’s a weird lump that might be a rib. 

She calls an ambulance as she cradles Leah in her arms, her unconscious body making Fatin unable to move from the middle of the street. Unconscious because Fatin refuses to believe otherwise. She’s not religious, but she prays there are no other cars driving on this road. 

They won’t let her ride in the ambulance so she tails them all the way to the hospital, speeding through side roads that she is definitely going at least three times the speed limit in. But they do let her go into the hospital through the urgent care entrance, which makes her feel badass even though she never liked those Grey’s Anatomy hospital dramas. Leah in a stretcher disappears down a hallway where Fatin isn’t allowed to go, instead she unlocks Leah’s phone to get her parent’s cell phone numbers. She calls them from her phone, preferring to stay anonymous (even if she confirms she’s at the hospital with Leah and she’s from school—she doesn’t know if she can call them _friends_ ), and promises to stay at the hospital until they arrive. Leah’s mother thanks her a million times, half in hysterics, and tells her they’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Fatin closes the phone and is almost about to exit out of Leah’s home screen, when the background picture catches her eye. She can’t see it very well since the apps are in the way, but it’s Leah laughing with some older guy. Fatin doesn’t have time to zoom in on his face as some of the nurses come up to her and ask if she needs anything. It’s only then she realizes that half her shirt is covered in dried blood and it’s completely not flattering, so a nurse takes her and offers Fatin her extra t-shirt. She refuses at first, because who takes a shirt from a woman they don’t know and how she is going to return it, but the nurse insists. Fatin will admit it is more comfortable than the halter top she was wearing before (sans Leah’s blood of course).

The doctor comes out and tells Fatin the list of Leah’s injuries: minor concussion, two broken ribs, and a few cuts and scrapes. It’s a miracle really, when Fatin saw the car hit Leah dead on, her body not even flinching. 

Leah’s parents arrive and Fatin slips out silently, not wanting to get involved in Leah’s family trauma or whatever, and finds herself at the gift shop. Impulsively, she buys a get well card with a picture of a cow grazing in a pasture and uses a hospital pen to write a short, stupid note inside. She doesn’t even know what makes her do it; it’s not like they’re friends or they interact in any way at all. 

Can you have an inside joke with a girl you’ve only talked to twice?

She ends up placing the card on the table next to Leah’s bed, without signing her name. Fatin figures Leah will know who it’s from. She walks out of the room and can’t bring her to look at Leah’s face, even though she’s sleeping peacefully now. 

Ironically, she still makes it home before curfew. What are the odds?

____

It’s not like Fatin expected Leah to reach out after she returned to school a week later, but Leah doesn’t even look at her, or anyone, just keeps her head down. 

She sees Ian looking at Leah on quad, a little bit reproachfully, and Fatin decides right then and there, she doesn’t like him. Whatever feud they had going on doesn’t override the fact Leah got literally run over. Fatin gives him a death-glare as she passes but he still doesn’t approach Leah. 

____

A week later, her life goes to shit for a while and Fatin stops caring about anything (or anyone) at all.

____

The day before she’s supposed to the retreat that is punishment for her trying to punish her dad’s actions, Fatin goes a little off the rails. She snaps her cello bow in half and skips school (the year is almost done anyways) to fuck her way through her contact list. She makes it pretty far too, before Max, the nice one, lets her crash on his couch after she drank herself halfway through his liquor collection. 

The next morning she’s driven to the airport, hungover but wearing her best clothes, and she sits down in a chair that’s three times the surface area of her ass and waits for her life to end.

____

Leah barely glances up from the paragraph she’s reading so she senses rather than sees Fatin board the plane. She doesn’t have anything to say to her, to any of them.

____

Okay when Fatin said she was waiting for her life to end, she didn’t mean literally.

____

After the longest day of her life, including where they have to bury a girl they all just met, who died in Leah’s arms, the alcohol is a welcome burn down her throat. It’s not exactly a distraction but it helps nonetheless, loosening her up around all these girls who don’t know her. Leah’s never been good at making friends, especially friends who were girls. 

Anyway, the tequila makes her cough but it helps when Fatin starts talking about threesomes and sex and Leah’s tipsy brain can’t decide to imagine her or him. 

____

Months later, in the epilogue she didn’t see coming, Fatin finally learns the truth about Leah, in bits and pieces over a few days, but it’s all there: the flash of pain in her eye, the guilt, the denial. Fatin pushes back, hard, but only because she knows Leah can take it.

Jeffrey Galanis, the author. An adult. It makes Fatin sick but when Leah still defends him, tells Fatin he “loved” her, that’s when her heart twists painfully. 

It’s a bitch move, but Leah pushes her and calls her a _cunt_ , practically shoving all of Fatin’s mistakes in her face, so Fatin smears her blood on Leah’s face, while the other girl stands still, her jaw twitching like she wants to push Fatin again. It’s only fair. 

(Maybe she can’t take it, the way Leah strips naked and walks trance-like towards the water. Fatin won’t let her eyes move below Leah’s mid-back, she _won’t._ The first time Leah goes under she thinks, wildly, she won’t come up for air; she stays under for longer than expected, so much so Dot starts walking towards the water, but then she’s sputtering and spitting out water and wasting all her energy. Then, she floats for hours in the ocean, just to prove a point apparently. 

Fatin’s been known for the dramatic, but damn.

____

The Taki’s aren’t even worth it, she thinks. After having Fatin smear blood on her face (what the fuck??) and spending hours floating in the ocean, even after it had completely washed off, Leah couldn’t even tell you which team had won. And she’s even made a tentative truce with Fatin, until Rachel makes a dig at her and Fatin asks for some fucking water even though she was the least helpful person out of all of them. 

Let her go thirsty, Leah doesn’t give a fuck.

____

It’s hard to storm out of a tent with seven other girls crammed inside, but Fatin manages. And yeah, she steals two cans of water (does lime La Croix count as water?) when everyone is sleeping because she’s fucking thirsty, but mostly because she’s coming to terms with the fact her parents definitely knew what they were sending her to and it wasn’t some weekend Girl-Scout sing-a-long.

Being alone on a deserted island doesn’t feel too much different than what she feels back in San Francisco so that’s something she could discuss with a therapist (if they ever get out of here).

____

Apparently, HPV jokes aren’t as funny to the others as they are to Leah. Go figure.

Then, Toni comes running back with a scrap of Fatin’s purple pant leg with something that looks entirely too much like dried blood and Leah’s annoyance gives itself away to fear and worry pretty quickly after that.

Nothing’s really funny because Fatin’s been missing for hours and they still can’t fucking find her and it’s all Leah’s fault. Why can’t she just let something go? Why couldn’t she just let Fatin have a sip of her own can of water? 

Not even the stupid questions the others come up with can unsour Leah’s mood because don’t they get it? Why does she always end up pushing people away?

She proves her own point that vigilance takes precedence over sanity when she screams at Rachel, at all of them.

And after the whole quicksand/mud pit extravaganza, they _still_ don’t get it and suggest to turn around, to try again tomorrow, to _abandon_ Fatin. Her throat is raw and she probably spend like eighty percent of her available energy on rescuing Rachel, but Leah is not fucking giving up on her. 

Leah doesn’t know how long they keep looking but suddenly, Fatin is there, standing in front of her like a goddamn miracle. She can’t help the way her voice breaks and the way she slides down the incline, how it makes her look absolutely pathetic, but she doesn’t care, she doesn’t care, because Fatin is alive and unhurt, even worse: she’s smiling. Fatin looks like an angel—an angel in ripped pants, a sequined rainbow crop top, and a camo jacket no less— and Leah’s pretty sure there’s mud in her underwear.

____

The way they all yell at her, throwing their accusations at her before she even has a chance to explain, reminds Fatin so much of her parents her stomach clenches for a second and she reminds herself, _this_ is why she doesn’t do friendship. She tries to be mad but she’s too giddy about the waterfall and God, they definitely need to be rinsed off. Fatin leads them through the woods and their cries of disbelief and wonder is better than any _I told you so_.

Leah doesn’t strip this time before going into the water—none of them do, just jump into the water completely clothed—and Fatin doesn’t know if she should be grateful or disappointed. 

When Dot tells her that she’s proud of her, something Fatin hasn’t heard in her life for a very long time, maybe ever, and she surveys the rest of girls, splashing around in the water, something warm settles in the base of her chest that feels a lot like friendship. 

Or maybe seven days without an orgasm has made her soft.

____

Handling Fatin Jadmani’s (pink, lacy) underwear is not something Leah would have imagined in any circumstance at all but extraordinary situations call for extraordinary coping methods.

The air is heavy between them and they do one of those things where they both start talking at the same time. 

Fatin apologizes first, tells her sincerely that he was probably “head over fucking heels” (Leah’s not so sure what to believe anymore) and she wants to laugh at how stupid this all is: they’re talking about Leah’s ex-boyfriend, who was most definitely a pervert, from months ago when one of them almost died today. The next part of Fatin’s apology takes her by surprise, Leah knows the soft admission is only for her ears: “I’m not sure I know shit about love.”

They both laugh when Leah calls herself out for being a cunt and then Fatin can’t look at her, if Leah didn’t know any better, she’d think Fatin was nervous, and she’s being vague as hell for really no reason at all. 

Fatin leans forward and oh, they’re touching, they’re _hugging_ , and dimly, Leah realizes this is the first time they’ve ever had contact with each other; she doesn’t think grabbing Fatin’s arm and then pushing her into a piece of driftwood counts. It feels so good that Leah truly, fully, relaxes into Fatin’s embrace, resting her head on the other girl’s shoulder, and closes her eyes. She can smell the ludicrously expensive perfume Fatin insists she apply every morning and Leah’s embarrassed because she definitely doesn’t smell good at all, the combination of the mineral scent from her time at the waterfall and the distinctly earthy smell of mud still lingering on her body. 

Abruptly, the hug ends and Leah misses Fatin’s touch instantly. It felt different than the placating touches her mom would give her after the accident; it was real and solid, like Fatin knew Leah wasn’t going to break beneath her fingertips. Or, they’re both more exhausted than she thought.

Fatin makes another joke and maybe she is nervous, or at least out of her element, and Leah doesn’t have time to ask her about it because Fatin’s standing up. She pauses and holds her hands out for Leah to grab and pulls her up. Their hands stay clasped together for a moment, real and warm and steady, and Leah finds herself already missing it, even before she drops her hands.

(Dot was right about her hands: they are calloused as fuck.)

____

It shouldn’t mean anything, Fatin’s already donated her whole wardrobe to their cause, but it makes her heart skip a beat when Leah takes the ridiculous, boxy sunglasses from her hands. She’s already wearing Fatin’s leopard print jacket, her brain unhelpfully supplies.

“You look good in teal,” she says to Leah. It’s a half-truth: Leah looks good in any color, even when her outfits are dreadfully muted monochrome colors, she still pulls it off. 

Fatin doesn’t tell her that, she can’t have the others doubting her sense of fashion.

____

The mussels slip down her throat in a deliciously salty way that Leah has to hold back an honest-to-God moan, the ache in her stomach finally subsiding for the first time in days.

The words are out of her mouth before she has a chance to think about it, Leah’s just so _excited_ that they finally have some fucking food, and Toni agrees with her, putting on an overexaggerated display that could qualify for their after dinner entertainment. 

“Lick the clit,” she laughs and Toni responds accordingly. 

She knows oysters are an aphrodisiac so she applies the same logic for the mussels they’re all eating for the reason why Fatin meets her eye after she hypes up Toni and it sends a current of heat through her. 

____

The fifteenth day on the island is an eventful one: Leah’s hold on all her crazy cracks just enough for her to accuse Shelby (for what exactly, she doesn’t know), they move, Fatin’s toothbrush dies and she punches Dot in the face. 

Dimly, as the toothbrush completes its final rotations, Fatin hears Leah make a joke relating to the death of her toothbrush. 

Oh, and a plane flies over, surely sees the beach scattered with girls, so Fatin’s sure rescue is coming soon.

Leah’s eyes have never looked this blue. 

____

The buzz of the plane engine jumpstarts something in Leah’s heart, giving her a burst of energy that she hasn’t felt in days. They all jump up, start waving their hands and trying to make as much movement possible. Then, the plane turns around and flies straight for them and it’s obvious they’ve been seen and Leah’s heart explodes. 

Fatin nearly jumps her, wrapping her arms around Leah so tightly she stumbles, and doesn’t let go. The elation is written all over both of their faces.

_We’re going home, we’re going home, we’re going home._

____

Spending one of her last days on the island crossed on cheap vodka and the gummies Martha had found is Fatin’s ideal. 

Also, the thought of returning to civilization helps. 

She’s surprised when she asks if anyone had gotten off on the island and everyone raises their hands except for Rachel and Martha. Fatin turns her body and high-fives Dot because she can’t face the way Leah’s hand still lingers in the air. Apparently, it’s Fatin’s lucky day because Shelby comes back, drunk out of her mind, mumbles something about orgasms, and then suggests they all go into the water. 

This time, under the influence of too many things to count, Fatin lets herself look when Leah rips off her shirt and runs into the water. Her eyes linger on Leah’s midsection, staring at the area where Leah’s ribs were once broken. 

____

Days pass and it’s obvious rescue isn’t as imminent as they thought. Maybe it never was. 

Leah doesn’t even stop her mind from spiraling. 

____

Fatin finds her laying in the sand, picking at her eyebrow.

“This is the worst it’s been,” and yeah, she can tell.

Leah’s eyes are filled with tears and bloodshot, the blue looking a lot closer to black.

It breaks Fatin’s fucking heart.

____

Later, after they drag Leah out of the ocean (that girl really needs to stay away from the water), but before Fatin presses the pill into her hand, Leah’s eyes meet hers. She doesn’t know they’ve been in this position before with Fatin cradling her limp body like it’s her lifeline. Leah’s eyes meet hers and Fatin wants to say _I’ve been watching you at school for the past eight months and might be a little bit in love with you but I don’t even know what that means. And I don’t know if you love me back or even if I am lovable._

Leah’s eyes meet her and flicker down to her lips and Fatin thinks Leah is going to kiss her, but then her eyes meet Fatin one last time, before clouding over completely.

____

Shit goes down the next day (Fatin should have known not to let Leah stumble off alone) but everything ends up okay, for the most part. 

Well, sort of. 

Rachel gets attacked by a shark (which is pretty traumatizing over all) but then Nora comes clean and tells them all how she was involved with whatever it is they’re experiencing on the island, and shakily pulls out a phone to call whoever she’s working with to get them off the island. Fatin thinks Leah’s going to attack Nora when she pulls out another cell phone, but doesn’t. 

So Leah was right, but Fatin feels sick rather than satisfied.

A boat comes up to pick Rachel up (they’ve stabilized her the best they could) and Nora ends up leaving too. The woman who picks them up tells them they’ll be extracted in the next few days. 

That night, around the fire, everyone drinks too much (they deserve it) and Fatin finds herself next to Leah. Again, they both start talking at once, but this time the silence between them isn’t awkward. 

Then, Leah is kissing her and it’s obvious and it’s obvious she’s drunk because she misses half of Fatin’s mouth at first, her lips pressing in the space between her bottom lip and her chin. She pulls back first and Leah’s eyes are still closed and Fatin’s heart stutters. 

Fatin shouldn’t be losing it over some ill-timed kiss, where her own lips are cracked and dry from weeks in the sun and Leah’s taste like vodka and salt water, but then Leah opens her eyes, with that color blue that’s the bain of her existence, and maybe it is special, the exact thing she’s been waiting weeks (months) for. 

Fatin presses her mouth back against Leah’s and she feels the other girl smile on her lips. 

**Author's Note:**

> Wow can't believe Leah and Fatin are in love (who's gonna tell the show writers)
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr (@iamkidfish)<< my inbox is always open for fic prompts or just if you wanna yell about these characters!
> 
> Any comments and/or kudos is appreciated!! Thanks for reading :)


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